Not Written in the Stars
by Breanna.Mel
Summary: A series of Tiva one-shots that I wrote to feel better about the finale. "'Some days I wish we were written in the stars, not just stumbling through life.' 'Where's the fun in that' 'I just want something permanent, something no one can take away.
1. Hot Chocolate

**A/N: Hey, I'm back with a very quick story. I don't really think this is _really_ good or anything, just short and sweet. I was busy with an exam and short stories/essays/business letters in LA. Yeah, fun, I know. Plus I have an music festival soon and an end of the year band concert, so I have to practice for that. Anyways, this story is kinda short, but I am going to be leaving this open for a series of Tiva one-shots, because while I was not writing, I was composing a list of prompts for this reason exactly. The prompt I used for this one was: Hot Chocolate. Um... What else... I don't really know, besides that these stories will probably have no plot. That and they might be fluffy, but we all need that after the season finale right? Because oh my freaking goodness, it was amazing and I can't even think about the team (especially Ducky, ahhhh) without almost bursting into tears.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable. Though Mrs. Huston is my own, and if you recognize her, I swear it was unintentional.**

**Spoilers: Not that I can find. I'd say this is set sometime in the hypothetical-not-there-yet season ten.**

* * *

The wind was bitterly cold and sharp pinpricks of freezing rain were hissing against her skin. The sky was cloudy and grey and she was sure she was slowly catching hyperthermia. The sweat on her body from her morning run froze almost as soon as it came. It was a pretty stupid idea to go for a run, but she needed to clear her head and it wasn't that bad when she left. She shook her head and was tempted to head slap herself. Of course it was bad, the wind was well above thirty miles an hour and there had been a ninety percent chance of precipitation when she checked the weather channel which had said freezing rain, and she still went, and the temperature was well below fifteen degrees Fahrenheit.

Finally she did head slap herself. It wasn't just a stupid idea, it was plain suicide. Her feet were numb and her fingers had long since become useless. The tips of her ears were most likely red and she wasn't sure if she had a nose anymore. Her apartment was only a block away though and a hot shower was probably a smart idea. They were only on call today so she could shower and curl up in a blanket on the couch after.

Pushing herself harder, she reached the door to her apartment building and fumbled for her keys. She reached into her pocket and felt around. Nothing. Reaching deeper in to her pocket she pulled out what remained, a couple fluffy pieces of lint, an empty gum wrapper, and a small rock, how that got in there she had no clue. Sighing, she stepped up to the call button and hit apartment 114, the room across from her.

The speaker crackled to life with a wonderful display of static and hissing, "Hello?"

Ziva leaned forward to speak to her elderly neighbour. "H-hello Mrs. Huston. It's Z-Ziva. Could you buzz me in?" It was a miracle that she was been able to stop her teeth from chattering on every word, "I forgot my keys in my a-apartment."

"Ziva!" her elderly neighbour exclaimed happily, at least Ziva _thought _it was happily, it was hard to tell through the heavy static. "Of course just give me a second to," her voice trailed off as she seemingly tried to find the button to let her in. "Ah. Here it is. There you go, dear."

"T-thank you," Ziva breathed. The door made an off-key ding and she grabbed the handle in her numb hands and yanked it open and stepped into the semi-warm lobby. The wind followed her in and swirled around the room, chasing what little warmth there was out and kept the door from closing. She threw her body against it and it shuddered close against the wind, which howled it's anger at being forced out of the building.

Ziva turned and took the stairs two at a time, rubbing her arms to try and get a bit of warmth in them. Mrs. Huston was waiting for her outside her door. "Ziva! Why in the world you go for a run in this weather?" she was holding a blanket and wrapped it around Ziva as she came closer. Mrs. Huston's bones creaked nosily as she embraced her much younger neighbour. Ziva shrugged and her teeth chattered together. "Well, it wasn't a very smart idea, my dear." Ziva nodded and Mrs. Huston continued, "I let up a very handsome young man into your apartment as well, said he knew you would do something like going for a run."

Ziva frowned as she tried to think of who would know her that well, but with her entire body shaking and her teeth chattering together uncontrollably, it was just on the other side of difficult. "T-thank you, Mrs. Huston."

"Your welcome, just go inside and warm yourself up before you catch a cold," she replied, her joints crashing together in a symphony of creaks and groans.

Ziva smiled as her neighbour shut the door quietly behind her and turned to try the doorknob, just in case she had left it unlocked when she. Not expecting it to turn and the door to give way, she stumbled into the entrance way. She almost tripped over the pair of expensive Italian shoes laying beside her coat closet. Her hand automatically moved to her SIG before she realized that someone invading her home wouldn't take off their shoes, that and she recognized the worn expensive Italian leather.

She kicked off her runners, shut the door behind her, and walked to her living room to see two steaming cups of something hot sitting on her coffee table, the sound of a shower running and steam coming from the bathroom, and a figure sprawled out on her couch.

"Tony, what in the world are you doing here?"

The figure sat up with his hair sticking up all over the place like he had just rolled out of his bed only to slump on her couch, which made her smile slightly, but his eyes were bright and awake. "Well, I figured you would try something crazy, like going for a run in this weather, so I came here and brought some hot drinks and started a shower for you."

"And how exactly did you get in here?"

He grinned and held up a lock-picking kit, one she had gotten him so long ago she barley remembered what it had been for.

Ziva squished the water out of her hair and shivered. Something warm and comfortable started to pool inside of her. She took a step towards him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, "Thank you."

The blanket started to slip from her shoulders and he grabbed it and held it on her, she shivered again, but with something very far from cold. He chuckled nervously and she could have sworn that his face turned slightly pink. "It was nothing," he mumbled.

She smiled at him, "No, really, thank you."

"Don't tell anyone, I have a reputation to protect," he winked at her secretively.

He winked at her and she laughed. Releasing his warm wrist and patting him on the cheek. "Sure you do," she said, turning to go down the hall to the bathroom.

He yelped and moved away from her freezing hand when her words processed, "Hey," he called as she started to shut the door, "I do have a reputation."

Her musical laugh drifted down the hallway, "You keep thinking that."

* * *

She emerged from her bedroom dressed in a pair of flannel pyjamas pants and a sweatshirt of Tony's that was about three sizes too big and hung down past her mid thighs. Her hair was drying in a dark halo around her head, and she looked much warmer than before.

She plopped down on the couch beside Tony and wrapped herself in a blanket. He nodded at the movie playing, "_True Lies, _1994, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Tom Arnold-"

"I know," she laughingly cut him off, "I watched with you a couple years ago."

"Oh, right," he replied. "Still cold?" he asked when she shivered. She nodded and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against him, even through the blanket she felt cold.

He leaned forward and grabbed the still steaming full cup on the coffee table and passed it to her. Her arms came out of the blanket and he could see the gooseflesh on it. She sipped the hot drink and hummed her appreciation as the liquid warmed her like fire going down her throat. It was warm and gooey and chocolaty, "Why hot chocolate?"

He chuckled and tightened his hold on her into a half hug. "Because, if I gave you coffee, you wouldn't be able to sleep."

She craned her head to see the clock on the wall, "It's only nine o'clock in the morning."

He laughed again, "Exactly, we are going to watch movies all day, that and sleep."

She grinned at him and wondered when it became so easy to let him invade her weekends, and her life.

She took another sip of her hot chocolate and smiled as the liquid slid down her throat and started to thaw her. Tony mouthed the words along with the movie and realized that it had always been easy to let him in.

* * *

**A/N: What do you think?**


	2. Blackout

**A/N: Back. *smile* Thank you guys for all the alerts, favourites, and reviews, made me not study for my science test and instead write a chapter for you guys (well, I did explain the whole unit to one of my best friends through text message, that counts, right?) but it was really easy, so no sweat. I know it's kinda short, but isn't that the point of a one-shot? Yes? No? Well maybe not? Nevermind then. Anyways, it's getting kinda late and I really need to go to sleep now so, peace.**

**Prompt: Blackout**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything, well, let me amend that, I _do_ own things, mostly books and drawing tools, just not anything in this story that could be claimed by very created people who happen to be very rich people too with very expensive lawyers and very expensive lawsuits that I can't pay for with books and drawing tools.**

**Spoilers: One minor one for season's seven Power Down (love that episode) but it doesn't matter if you've seen that episode.**

* * *

"Tony!"

"I swear it wasn't my fault!"

He's holding his hands up in surrender when she marches into her living room, hands on hips, eyes narrowed, teeth barred, all business. He gestures to the mess of cords and wires and packaging that is the new television he got her and to the sudden blackness they find themselves in. "It wasn't me!" he yelps when she strides towards him. He covers his head with both arms and shies away from her as she passes him as if expecting her to smack him.

She continues past him with an exaggerated roll of her eyes and a muttered "Idiot."

He stands up straight with an insulted look and an indignant "Hey!" She rolls her eyes again and throws the curtain back, bathing the room in moonlight and her hair to silver. She scrubs away the frost from the window and peers out into the night, holding her damp, cold hand in her left hand to recover the warmth that was sucked into the half-frozen window. The streetlights had gone out too and the frost on the road and trees and grass was sparkling in the moonlight. He crosses the remaining distance to her in only couple of strides and is pressed against her back with no regard for personal space as he leans over her shoulder to see out the small frost-free part of the window. Her heart stumbles over itself and refuses to regain a steady beat until he steps away from her and she suddenly finds herself missing the constant warmth of him, even if only for a few seconds. "I didn't start the blackout," he announces proudly.

She looks up and searches for the roof for the reason she spends her spare time with him before turning to him, arms crossed over her chest, "And how, pray tell, did you figure that out?"

He shrugs and shoves a handful of popcorn from the coffee table into his mouth, "Be'cause bthe stre'et blights are bout boo."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to not talk with your mouth full?" she asks, staring at the semi-chewed mush of chips in his mouth with disgust.

He swallows deliberately before speaking again, "I said: Because the street lights are out too, which means that the blackout is through this entire part of the city-"

"I know," she interrupts but he continues.

"-and I assume that someone did, but I probably wasn't paying attention." He grins at her and ignores the part-disgusted part-affectionate glance she throws him.

She sighs, stares at the hopeless tangle of wires for a second, looks back at the still smirking Tony and resists the urge to roll her eyes before striding past him and plopping herself down on the couch. Tony's smirk disappears as he gestures to the tangle of wires, "You aren't leaving me to do all of this by myself, are you?" his eyes are wide and a silver shade of green.

She grins at him, "You are the one who insisted that I get a TV so you get to put it together."

He pouts adorably and looks disdainfully at the wires before falling on the couch beside her, reaching for the bowl of chips and offering them to her. She laughs and waves her hand in the general direction of the television, "Are you not going to finish putting together _my_ TV?" she asks cheekily.

"Maybe when the power comes back on," he answers sheepishly.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while until her phone buzzes on the coffee, the vibrations seeming deafening in the dark quiet of her apartment. She groans and struggles to get out of the comfortable position she is in with her hip against his and his warm shoulder and arm pressed closely to hers. He grins at her and reaches his long arm forward to grab the offending object without dislodging her from his side.

Gibbs' grumpy smirking face is staring up at her with his customary coffee cup in hand so she swipes her finger across the screen quickly and puts the phone to her ear. "David."

"Dead petty officer at Georgetown. McGee'll text you, or whatever he does, the address. Bring DiNozzo."

She pushes Tony's head away from her and tries to stop the phone from falling with some difficulty. "How did you know that he was-?"

"I can hear him breathing."

She glares at him and pushes him away again as he tries to press his ear to the side of her phone. "Right."

He looks slightly insulted when he catches Gibbs' words. "I don't breathe _that _heavily," he mutters.

She rolls her eyes. There's McGee's voice in the background, high-pitched with fear, "Uh, Boss? That was a stop sign." There's a faint screeching of tires and a loud horn honking and McGee's breath of relief before the line is dead.

She stands and stretches, Tony staring at her appreciatively. "Eyes to yourself," she mock-scolds, only half kidding when a seed of warmth spurts in her.

Ten minutes later they are walking down out the door; Tony holds it open and bows for her, a playful glint in her eyes. "No getting trapped in elevators with McGee this time, once is an accident, twice is suspicious." He winks at her and she shakes her head, this time smacking him gently in the chest as she passes. His laughter follows her to her car.

* * *

**A/N 2:Thanks again for the alerts/reviews/favorites, they all make my day.**


	3. Chicken Noodle Soup

**AN: I'm back. And guess what. I have an _amazingly_ good excuse for being gone for so long. Drum roll please. I broke my C7 vertebrae, for those of you who don't know what that means, long story short, I broke my neck. How's that for an excuse? But don't worry (as if anyone was actually worried about me), it was a stable break on the inside (the body of a vertebrae), so no surgery, no halo (though I have a very fashionable collar if I do say so myself), and no paralysation. The only thing is that broke worse than the bone is my pride, it's very damaged and may never come back. You want to know how I broke it? I missed the mat on high jump. Yes, laugh all you want, my old gym teacher/basketball coach already did when she found out. Though that could be because I'm just so darn funny. Anyway, it hurts to read (my doctor actually said I couldn't for a week), do schoolwork, draw, write, and type, which is why it took me so long to publish this.**

**Yes, just so you know, Abby _does _overreact in this, because she's Abby, and McGee does too because he's... Well, he's McGee, and he overreacted because Abby overreacted. I also learned that it is really fun to write in McGee's P.O.V because he's just so McGee-ish.**

**Prompt: Sickness.**

**Disclaimer: My disclaimer disappeared when I missed the mat on high jump, I was happy until it mysteriously reappeared as I was writing this. I'm going to go cry in the corner now.**

**Spoilers: There's a vague reference to Somalia, even though it doesn't actually _say _Somalia (besides where I just did).**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He sat drumming his fingers against his desk, staring into the void between their desks.

McGee groaned and looked up at his co-worker. "What? Tony?" he forced out through gritted teeth.

Tony glanced up from where he had been staring at Ziva's empty desk to McGee, then back again. His face was tense and his body was taunt, draw like a bowstring waiting for the snap of the string to send it flying away. His green-grey eyes were a little more grey than usual, and troubled, no longer dancing with laughter. His mouth was twisted in a grim line, "Huh?"

McGee sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've been staring at her desk and drumming your fingers against for the past thirty minutes," the last part was said very carefully, as if something would blow up if he spoke too loud or too carelessly. Though if he was being honest with himself, he too had been looking up at her desk occasionally, it was very unlike Ziva to be late, especially three hours late.

Tony looked at him briefly before going back to staring at the empty desk, as if looking at it would make her appear from thin air and act as if she hadn't just forced their co-worker into staring at an empty desk for the better part of thirty minutes. "Hmm? Sorry."

McGee's mouth dropped open, not only had he apologized, he had apologized to _him. _McGee shook his head and went back to rapidly typing on his keyboard, lithe fingers flying across the keys. _I've entered some kind of alternate universe, any minute now Tony will sprout antennas and Gibbs will dance in wearing a tutu. _Neither happened, thankfully, but Tony had already started tapping again. McGee stood suddenly, almost tempted to head slap himself out of the scary, new universe he found himself in. But, deciding that it would hurt a little more than it needed to, he walked through Tony's staring, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end when he felt like he was severing the line holding the two partners together, and half-walked half-sprinted to the elevator. He hit the down button, once, twice, three times, before it dinged its ascent and he raced in without looking. He collided with a very solid, very disgruntled, very coffee deprived former marine. The stare he gave McGee made him tempted to take himself up on the head slap offer. "Boss! I'm so sorry- I wasn't looking and-"

"McGee." Two syllables and a surprisingly warm hand on his shoulder later, McGee was even more confused than he was from Tony's obvious worry. McGee stared wide-eyed at Gibbs as his eyes melted minutely; just enough for McGee to confirm that, Gibbs was, indeed, human. "Go." The elevator doors slide shut as soon as Gibbs walked out, probably waiting for him to exit. McGee shut his mouth with an audible _pop_ and hit the button for Abby's lab. He definitely needed some normal today. He rubbed his eyes and groaned when he checked his watch. It was only nine fifty-seven; it was going to be a _long_ day.

The elevator dinged again, shaking McGee out of his musings, and opened to Abby's lab. He stepped in hesitantly, there was definitely something wrong, for one, Abby was slouched at the computer, staring blankly at the screen, two, her hair was in two very messy pigtails, and three, there _was_ music playing (so thankfully no one had died or been blown up) but it was so quiet it was hard to hear.

"Abby?" he asked, walking toward her carefully, "Are you okay?"

She turned towards him so fast that it even made him dizzy. "McGee!" she exclaimed, then enveloped him in a hug, which was very nice, but odd, especially since she was almost crushing him. He returned the hug cautiously. When she pulled back he saw that her make-up was sloppily put on too. She studied his face for a second, seeing how relaxed it was, before punching him in the arm, hard.

McGee rubbed his arm and stared at her blankly for a second, "What was that for?"

"Are you _stupid?_ Why aren't you worried? You know her immune system has never been the same since," she waved her arms in the air, almost talking off his head, "since _that_.She could be _dying_. She's invincible though, she _can't _die," she trailed off before turning to look at him. Eyes wide and worried. "You don't know? I forgot to tell you, didn't I?"

McGee looked at her, dread starting to settle inside. "What?"

Abby took a steadying breathe. "Ziva," she explained hoarsely. "She caught the flu and-" she closed her eyes to compose herself, "and she is _really_ sick."

McGee stared at her, his heart trying to escape from his chest and his stomach crawling into his throat. "What?" he croaked, "How?"

Abby sighed and slumped back on her stool. "You know since she came back she was never the same. Neither was her immune system," she gulped, "She can just barely fend off the common cold now, and now she has the flu."

McGee stared at her, his stomach slowly contracting and compressing itself. She never got sick, and if she did she had to be dying to stay home. She _is _invincible. A month ago she took a bullet to the abdomen for him, and he still has yet to repay her for that. She _can't die_.

* * *

Tony knocked on the door. There was harsh coughing from inside and a Scottish "I'll be right back, my dear." The door opened to revel Ducky. "Anthony, come on in."

He crossed the threshold and kicked off his shoes, "How is she?"

Ducky turned to him, "The worst of it is over." Tony's shoulders slumped with relief, Ducky continued, "She is no longer nauseous, the Paracetamol seems to be working."

"That's good, right?" Tony asked, worry starting to creep back into his eyes.

Ducky nodded. "Yes." His eyes were tired but there was a small smile of relief on his face. "Now, I think it's time I get home. Goodnight, Anthony. Take care of her."

The coughing resumed as he closed the door behind the old doctor and it made Tony wince as he made his way to her bedroom. There was a chair pulled up to the bedside, presumably were Ducky had been sitting. The covers were pulled up to her chin, her hair was spread out in a dark, curly, tangled mess on her pillow, her usually lively brown eyes were red watery, her lips were chapped, and her nose was running and raw from blowing it so often. It wasn't fair, he thought, she still managed to make him feel like a teenager and his heart start doing jumping jacks.

"Hey," he whispered softly, finding one of her hands and pulsing it softly, as much to comfort her as to reassure him that she was still here on Earth, alive and slowly getting better, "How are you doing?"

Her lips curved into a smile that looked more painful than anything. "Just peachy." Her voice was hoarse and muffled, as if she was talking to him down a long tunnel.

He grinned at her to show that she got that one right, "My little girl's all grown up," he said, dramatically wiping a fake tear from his eyes. She looked as if she was going to chuckle, but a long stream of harsh coughing cut her off. She took in a laboured breathe and sniffed. He grabbed a Kleenex from her bedside table and passed it to her. She blew her nose, wincing as it touched the raw skin, and dropped it into a small garbage can beside the bed that he hadn't noticed earlier.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

He nodded and heard the microwave go off. He hadn't put anything in it, so it must have been Ducky. Ziva had already fell asleep in the short time he had considered what the Medical Examiner had been heating up, he smiled and carefully released her surprisingly tight grip on his hand and walked into the kitchen. The microwave dinged again as he walked to it. There was a bowl on the counter and a spoon sitting beside it, the room smelled of chicken noodle soup. He opened the microwave, and sure enough, there was a container of soup that made anyone feel better. He took it out, cursing when he realized it was _really_ hot, and set it on the counter beside the bowl. He sucked on his semi-burned fingers. There was a quiet hoarse chuckle from right behind him and he jumped, turning to see that even when Ziva was sick with the flu and wrapped in a thick blanket she could sneak up on him. He clutched a hand to his chest, "I told you to stop doing that," he scolded.

She smirked at him, then it turned into a softer smile. "Is that chicken noodle soup?" she croaked.

"Yep," he said, this time carefully picking up the container and pouring the soup into the bowl. He turned around to see that she had disappeared, yet again, and followed the coughing into the living room. She was curled up on the couch, another Kleenex box and small garbage can by her. "Here you go, milady," he said, bowing as he bestowed the bowl of steaming soup upon her. Two hands emerged from the depths of her blankets and accepted it, she turned her gaze upon him expectantly. "What?"

She raised an eyebrow, looked at him, to the soup, and back. "A spoon might be helpful."

His eyes widened, "Oh, right, forgot that part."

"Of course you did," she teased.

"Hey! No mocking, or I'll leave right now," he called from the kitchen.

She was pouting when he sat on the couch beside her and passed her the spoon, "But I'm sick, you couldn't just leave me."

She was finished her soup and half-sleep on his shoulder, the movie they were watching almost done, when he breathed into her hair, "I'd never leave you."

He didn't expect her to hear him and answer, but she did quietly. "I know."

* * *

**Just to be truthful, I don't like chicken noodle soup. Unless it's my Auntie's, I hate it. I'm not entirely sure why I put it in here, but oh well.**

**A review could help me heal faster (not in the literal sense, but let's just go with that).**


End file.
